


By the Way

by ladydeathfaerie



Series: By the Way [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-08
Updated: 2012-04-08
Packaged: 2017-11-03 06:52:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/378555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydeathfaerie/pseuds/ladydeathfaerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Upon returning from a mission, Clint Barton finds that the love of his life has packed up and left. This prompts a week long beer binge that sees him delving into the depths of his emotions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By the Way

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dazzledfirestar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dazzledfirestar/gifts).



> this fic was written as a gift for Dazzledfirestar. i was given free range to write what i wanted and with whom. the only thing she asked was that i write the fic based on the lyrics to _By the Way_ by Theory of a Deadman.
> 
> ... so i may or may not have kind of written song fic.

Its Christmas Eve and here I sit, alone, in the dark. You've been gone for nearly a week now. And I simply don't understand what happened. All I know is, after coming in from a mission, the house is empty. Our place. All I found is a note by the door. It isn't much. Just something meant to simply explain what has happened. A few words to say that you can't do this anymore. You need something more, something else. Somebody else. Somebody not me. Sitting on the couch, I clutch the note in my hand. That simple piece of paper, its all that remains of our relationship. All that remains of us.

I thought things were great between us. I thought that we had that something special you always hear about in books and see in movies, that special quality that said we'd make it when everyone else failed. It would seem I was wrong. I just can't believe you're gone. I really thought that we'd gotten past the fights and the short separations. This time, its not like before. You took everything. You left nothing here. Your clothes, your personal effects, all those little things you brought with when you moved in with me, its all disappeared. The only sign that you were even here are marks in the dust on the floor that have piled up from the years that we lived together in this place. 

It isn't fair. You never gave me a chance. You never gave us a chance. You left without saying goodbye to me. A note isn't enough. Not for the depth of feelings between us and not for the length of time that we were together. It isn't enough. It doesn't explain anything. Not really. And we've been through so much. There were good times and there were bad. All those scars and souvenirs I earned because I loved you so much. Suddenly, they mean nothing. And now that you're gone away, all I can think about is you and me. 

Its no wonder why I have not slept in days.

Of course we had our problems. What couple doesn't? But I thought we were adult enough to work through them. I thought we were rational enough to sit down and talk them out. I never expected you to pack up and leave me while I was gone, when I couldn't be here to talk to you. You should have given me a chance. I have a right to know why you left. But you didn't even stop to consider that, did you? You didn't want to talk about it, whatever it was. Would it have hurt you to try and work things out with me?

It hurts me to see that we've been a lie. Its ripped something open inside my chest until I feel like I'm bleeding. My heart and soul have been destroyed. I won't admit it to any of our friends, but I've cried every day since you left. I'm crying even now, tears leaving tracks down my cheeks. Why am I still crying? You obviously didn't love me enough to stay. Was this because of that fight we had before I left? Was that why you left? Is that why you packed up your life and took it from me? I thought we were going to discuss things when I got back. At least, that's what I'd hoped would happen. And now that you're gone, its easy to see that you never meant to work things out. I know that now. I see it as the truth. But that truth is so hard to believe.

God damn it, this hurts. It hurts so bad. I've never felt such pain in my life. And its sad to say that this pain is killing me inside. Every time I think about you, the pain comes fresh and new, like a stab wound to the heart. I want it to go away so that I can function again. I want to be at peace. But its time to say that this pain is keeping me alive. Twisting and turning, it rips through my heart like a well aimed arrow. Its been tearing me apart.

I don't want to love you anymore. I want to hate you so that everything I feel will go away and leave me in peace. I know that won't happen. I've never loved anyone like I've loved you. I'll never love anyone like I've loved you. You're my whole world, my whole life. How could you do this to me? I wish I could make you go away, wish I could drive that last little bit of you from my mind. But I can't. You're there permanently, a part of me that will never fade. I can't function without you here, can't do anything but sit and stare at the Christmas tree, dark and silent. We decorated it before you left, laughing and happy as I draped strands of tinsel over your shoulders and in the soft silkiness of your blonde hair. And then, when we were finished adorning it with the brilliant lights and sparkling ornaments, you took me to the floor and we made love to one another so fiercely. 

You've gone and left me and all I can think about now is you and me.

~*~*~*~*~

He woke with his head pounding, his mouth dry, and had a moment to wonder just where the hell he was. The lamps were off, but the lights shining on the Christmas tree were more than enough to send his head into fits of pounding. He groaned and tugged the blankets up over his head. And that made him stop and think. When had he covered himself? He couldn't even remember falling asleep.

A glance around showed him that it was dark beyond the lit tree. The coffee table before him was covered with empty beer bottles, some lying on their sides while others stood straight and tall. It looked as if he'd had himself one hell of a party. Felt like it, too. Biting back a groan, he sat up and scrubbed at his face with his hands. What the hell had possessed him to drink like that? 

As if waiting for just that question, the memories of the night before, of the last week, came pouring back in a painful rush. 

Right. That was what had possessed him to drink the way he had. Sighing, he stared blindly at the beer bottles, a forest of brown glass. The odor of stale, flat beer hung on the air. If it hadn't been December in New York, he might have opened a window to air the place out. Not that anyone was going to care what his place smelled like. Not now. Not when it was just him in the big house alone.

He staggered into the bathroom, cringing away from the light when it sprang to life with a flick of his hand. Even the click of the switch was enough to make his head hurt. Taking in his reflection, he frowned. He looked like shit. Golden stubble covered his cheeks and chin. His hair was lank and lifeless. There were dark circles under his eyes. He looked as bad as he felt. For a moment, he considered a shower and a shave. But he decided against them. What did it matter? He was alone and that wasn't about to change. He didn't plan on going anywhere. Fuck it. 

He was still standing before the mirror when he heard a noise from somewhere in the house. Frowning, he turned the light off and retraced his steps toward the living room. It sounded like the strange noise had come from the kitchen. He wasn't in any shape to kick the shit out of a would be thief, but he'd give it a damned good try.

The light that shone off the tree was enough to see by, allowing him to pick his way across the floor toward the partially enclosed dining room. The kitchen lay beyond that, the swinging door between the two rooms closed to cut the amount of light that leaked out into the rest of the house. He frowned at that. Why would someone raid his kitchen? It was nothing more than a litter of empty beer bottles, greasy pizza boxes and dirty dishes. He picked up the first thing that his hand closed around and frowned to find he was holding a cordless phone. It would have to do because there was nothing heavier for him to take with him. And he just wasn't steady enough for any other weapons. 

Here was hoping that his thief didn't have anything deadlier than a fist.

Even before he made it across the room, the swinging door opened and allowed a spill of golden light to wash over the room. It hit him and left him momentarily blinded. His head ached like someone was trying to drill through his skull looking for oil. "Jesus Christ. You look like shit. When was the last time you took a shower?"

Pain ripped into him at the sound of that achingly familiar voice. The shock of it staggered him, forcing him to reach out and put his empty hand on the back of a chair to keep upright. Maybe he'd had a bit too much to drink the night before. And the day before that. And the day before that. And earlier in the week.

The ability to see came back to him slowly. Light haloed around the body of the love of his life, giving the appearance of an angel bringing golden luminescence into the dark. "Why the hell are you holding the phone like that?"

The question caught him off guard and he glanced sheepishly at the receiver held in his hand. "I thought you were a thief who'd broken in," he said, lowering his arm and the phone to his side. "I was going to use it as a weapon."

That comment brought a laugh from the intruder. "You're an Avenger. Why would you need to use a phone as a weapon?" 

"Because I've had too much to drink and I don't think I could throw a punch right now."

"Stupid." He wasn't sure if the comment referred to him or to his binge drinking. He didn't really care.

"What are you doing here? You left me. Your note said we were done." A frown settled over his face as he turned and headed back toward the living room. Now he knew why the tree was plugged in. He'd been drinking in the dark last night. 

"Tony and Steve both called me. They were worried. They couldn't get a hold of you."

"With good reason. I unplugged the phone. I didn't want to be disturbed." He ignored the presence that followed behind him and moved into the living room where he reclaimed his spot on the couch. A few moments later, his unwanted company joined him, taking a seat in a nearby chair.

"Clint..."

"Don't say it. Don't say anything. I don't..." He sighed and lifted his gaze. Those blue eyes caught and held his, refused to let them go. He fell to silence and hated himself for the tears that glimmered in his eyes. Clint Barton, member of the Avengers, code name Ronin and formerly Hawkeye, did not cry. And not over someone who didn't love him enough to stick around and try to make it work. "You left me, remember? You walked out on us without a word to me."

"I'm sorry about that. I shouldn't have just left without talking to you. But I was hurt, damn it! You hurt me. What was I supposed to do? Just sit around and wait for you to come back so we could fight some more?"

"And if something had happened while I was gone? If I hadn't come back? Would you have felt bad for leaving the way you did?" He knew the questions were unfair, but he didn't care. It had hurt him so deeply to come home and find their house empty.

"Damn it, Clint. Don't be an asshole about this." A long, tortured sigh rolled up out of that pale throat. "I'm sorry. I really am. I didn't think... I wasn't thinking. I was just so upset that you were going to go. I mean, its Christmas. We were fighting. And I didn't know if you'd be home or not. I'll admit that there was a part of me that was afraid you wouldn't come back. That you'd get yourself killed or you'd find someone else to warm your bed. I still don't understand why we're together."

He sighed and shook his head. "Because I love you, dumb ass. Why else would I be with you?"

That earned him a chuckle. He could hear a soft thread of relief in the sound. He shook his head in disbelief. How could anyone be that thick? And how could they have gone from being split up to back together in such a short amount of time? It boggled his mind to find that they'd already slipped back into their comfort zone. Not that there weren't things to work out. Because there obviously were. But they were back together again. He knew it, could just feel it.

"I didn't know that leaving you hurt you this much." A hand touched the legal pad that held everything he'd written the night before. All of his pain and confusion, all of his love and fear, had been poured out onto that paper. 

"You read it." He made it a statement.

"When I covered you with the blanket. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I really didn't."

"What did you think leaving would do to me? Do you really think that I care nothing for you?" He tried to make it sound like the question was off the cuff, that he didn't care about the answer one way or the other. But he did. He was holding his breath, eager to hear the answer. He really had to know.

"I keep thinking that I'm just a temporary fling. I keep waiting for you to tell me you've found someone else and that you're leaving me."

He heard insecurity in those words and could have kicked himself. His first instinct was to sink into sarcasm but that wouldn't help the situation. The best course of action was to prove he'd meant it when he'd said those three little words. He rose up, motions still smooth and graceful despite the excessive drinking and his pounding hangover, and crossed the room. He held out a hand, waiting until he felt the warmth of flesh press into his palm. A single tug brought his companion into a stand. 

He moved in for the kill.

Their mouths met, bodies pressed up against one another. Lips slid over lips, soft and strong and hungry, while tongues met and twined and danced. He groaned and tightened his hold, hands sliding up to spear through the silken strands of blonde hair that fell haphazardly around his lover's face. It didn't take long before he was ready to continue this in the bedroom. "I will never leave you. I will never replace you. You are the only person I want. You are the only one I need in my life. I love you, Johnny. I want to take you to bed and show you how much I love you."

Johnny smiled up at him, blue eyes shining with his own emotions. "That sounds like the best Christmas present I could ask for."

Clint needed no further prompting. He took hold of Johnny's hand and tugged him toward their bedroom. He planned on giving Johnny one hell of a Christmas to remember. "By the way, Clint," his lover said as they stepped into the bedroom. They stopped just inside the door and Clint casually used a foot to shove the wooden panel shut. 

"What, Johnny?"

"I love you."


End file.
